The Ghost of all that was Good
by Hannah Lily Potter
Summary: Hermione has a dear companion, but only when she's alone. How hard is it to say goodbye when neither person is ready to let go? Very.


This is short and sad, for which I am very sorry.

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There isn't much you can say about a life half lived. But there's miles I can tell you about a half lived life. I could tell you about the memories and the good times, the bad times and the hard times. But I could also tell you about the what ifs and the could bes.

Some people die young. It's tragic and unfair, no matter the circumstances. Most people go through the five stages of mourning as usual. They're angry that the person they loved was taken from them so cruelly, so early on. Other people go into denial. They refuse to accept they're gone until they've left it too late to say goodbye.

Still... once in a blue moon, someone decides to break the mould. They lose themselves in their own mind and in their anger and denial, they lose themselves in their own minds until they are ready to say goodbye.

One of these rare people was a certain bushy haired War hero, who went by the name of Hermione Jean Granger.

The days after the Battle of Hogwarts were hectic for most people. With a Wizarding World to fix and a Ministry and School to be rebuilt, most were severely pre-occupied. For Hermione, Harry and the Weasleys it was entirely another matter.

Exactly a week after the battle of Hogwarts, Hermione sat alone in the kitchen of the Burrow, writing to Minerva McGonagall about her return to school. As she finished her letter, Hermione felt arms snake around her stomach and soft, comforting lips press at her right temple.

"Don't." She murmured, doing her best to ignore the action; rolling up her parchment and tying it with a ribbon.

"Hello. Are you feeling alright this morning?"

Hermione delayed replying by slipping from her chair and handing her letter to a Hogwarts owl, watching as the elegant creatures took off into the blue sky with its wings spread wide and majestic.

"It's a miracle I feel anything at all." She finally said, still watching the sky despite the fact that the owl had long since disappeared into the fluffy white clouds on the horizon.

"Hermione."

"Don't. Don't say a single damn thing." Hermione turned, tears swelling up in her eyes and threatening to flow down her pale face. A years worth of sleepless nights and pain had not gone away in just a few days. Quite frankly, she didn't know if the marks would ever go away. That haunted look in her eyes that even she couldn't face in the mirror. The things she'd seen... the things she'd done over the past year. She couldn't bare to think about it any longer.

"You have been so brave, Hermione. I could never tell you how proud I am of you. How strong you've been."

"No. You couldn't. You have no idea. Look at me. Look at this façade. I am a wreck and only you can see it. I'm in a living hell and you don't... you can't..." Hermione trailed off, wiping her eyes furiously. She wouldn't shed a single tear for him. Would that she could.

"You're not a wreck, Hermione Granger. You're fantastic. You're brilliant. You're the strongest woman I know."

Hermione rolled her eyes, plucking her cardigan from the back of her chair and pulling it on. She stuck her head out into the hall and called up the stairs. "Mrs Weasley, I'm going for a walk to the village. I'll be an hour or so."

The reply of 'alright dear' came shortly after, and Hermione exited the Burrow through the kitchen door out into the back garden. The air was as nice as the sky foretold and Hermione took a deep breath of the fresh summer breeze. Even after a year of the British countryside, Hermione would never take the fresh air for granted. The smoke and fumes in the air during the Battle, the stench of blood and the dead had been all she could smell and taste for a full day after the Battle and even now the memory was too vivid to suppress.

It had been the night after the battle that he had first shown up, sitting by her bed as she stared at him in her sleep deprived state. When she woke in the morning, she'd expected him to be gone. But he wasn't. Only when she was alone did he come. Hermione simultaneously wished she was always alone and that he would never come. He was the ghost of all that was good, but it was so bad that she could be with him. She didn't want to be in that position any more.

"You wanna be careful, Hermione, you might lose yourself in that mind of yours."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Hermione retorted sharply, unwilling to bite her tongue now that they were truly alone. The path to the village lead up a long, steep hill. Hermione didn't mind. It was just another challenge. Just another task she had to face to get where she needed to be. The problem was, she didn't know where she needed to be. Going somewhere for the sake of going, was not the same as having a purpose.

She wasn't taking a leisurely stroll to the next village along.

She was simply walking for the sake of it and hoping she found somewhere good at the end.

"Don't say that. I know it's hard, Hermione, but there's always something to keep fighting for. Something that makes all the pain worth it."

Hermione turned on the spot, facing her companion.

"Shut up." She hissed. "I am sick and tired of being expected to fight. Nothing is worth this pain. _Nothing_ at all. So don't you dare stand there and tell me what to do. You have no right."

"I have every right. I won't stand by and let you do this to yourself. Hermione Granger, I love you. You have to find a way to be happy."

Hermione shook her head, continuing on her trek to the top of the hill. The higher she climbed, the more intense the breeze got. It made her hair whip at her face, but she couldn't feel that pain when there was a much greater one in her own mind. There was no greater injustice than losing someone you cared about, but Hermione had watched so many people she loved leave her life that she felt she could go mad. It wasn't fair. She wanted to stop feeling, to stop hurting, and thinking too. But all she could do was dwell on the what ifs and impossible futures, feeling the pain afresh every single minute that air circulated in and out of her lungs.

"There is no way." She replied through gritted teeth.

"Okay. Enough now. I get it, Hermione, you're healing. But this isn't you. Look at me."

A hand curled around Hermione's wrist, pulling her to a stop. She refused to meet the eyes of her fellow traveller, unable to keep the tears from her own.

"Hermione Jean Granger. You have your whole life ahead of you. You will heal and you will have a good, whole life and shine brighter than ever before. But you can't give up now. Promise me. Promise me you'll try."

Hermione looked up, brown eyes meeting a blue as vibrant as the sky and just as far away.

"I miss you, Fred." Her heart clenched and she chocked back a sob, her voice breaking. How could she say the words that she hadn't yet even admitted to herself. "I need you to leave but I can't let you go. Every second I'm alive I relive seeing you fall. I have one nightmare and it's of that wall, taking you from me. I can't... it hurts to breathe without you." It wasn't a question of determination any longer. Even sheer stubbornness couldn't suppress the stream of tears cascading down Hermione's face. "And every time I see you I never want you to leave again. I want to memorize every single freckle on your face. But then you leave and I pray to god that you don't come back because you're hurting me, Fred. You won't let me let go."

Fred smiled a little. It was a sad smile that only made to feel Hermione worse. His blue eyes sparkled with tears, shining like a tropical ocean.

"I know. I'm sorry, Hermione. Each time I leave I see how sad you are and it forces me to come back. I'm selfish, I know. I don't want you to move on and fall in love with Ron and get married and have his children. I want to be alive and yours, wholly and really. I don't want to leave you alone."

"I don't love Ron, Fred." Hermione sobbed and Fred wiped his eyes. "I don't love him, I love you. Nobody knows. No-one understands. I couldn't cry at your funeral. I wouldn't give in and let them know. They don't know how much I love you and they don't understand why I can't... I can't Fred." Hermione shook her head, biting her lip. Despite everything she knew to be right and logical and existent, Hermione took Fred's hand and squeezed it, trying to convince herself he was really there. She could feel the warmth of his skin so clearly. He had always been so warm and comforting, his hands large compared her own and wrapping perfectly around her nimble fingers.

"Oh Hermione, I am so sorry." Fred whispered, his voice carrying on the breeze. He raised a hand up to Hermione's cheek and brushed her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "I am so, so sorry." He added, attempting the weakest smile Hermione had ever seen. It was heartbreaking. It wasn't her Fred. Her Fred beamed and grinned and laughed with all the music of the world in his voice. "I should never have stuck around. Promise me, Hermione. Promise me you'll keep fighting."

Hermione nodded vaguely, relishing in his touch on her cheek.

"Say it Hermione, promise me out loud."

"I promise." Hermione cried, almost shouting. "I promise." She added, her tone softer.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Hermione felt the warm skin on her own begin to cool. With each passing second, the skin got colder and colder until it was ice on her skin.

"No!" She yelled, reaching up her own hand and laying it upon Fred's- pressing it tightly to her face. "No, Fred!"

"I won't come back this time." Fred told her, his vibrant blue eyes and red hair fading. "I'll let you live now. Look out for Georgie, won't you?"

"Fred! I change my mind! I CHANGE MY MIND!" Hermione screamed, her hand falling through Fred's and feeling her own tear-soaked face. Fred's face was still before her own but it was fading and he was fading. She knew this would be the last time. Fred wasn't lying. He was truly going and yet again, she wasn't ready to let him go.

"I'll see you, Hermione. Have fun living." Fred grinned.

Then she was alone. Stood at the top of the hill and completely alone for the first time since Fred 'died'. Hermione sunk to her knees, curling up in a ball on the ground and sobbing into the long grasses around her.

If there was anything she could get out of the sorry life the war had left her with, it was Fred's last wishes. Even if it killed her to move on, she had to try.

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I swear I'm working on a longer, happier Fremione piece. It's going to be full of happiness and laughing and dancing, so stay tuned.


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